


Red Rocket

by soundoftheunderground



Category: Fallout 4, Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, F/F, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundoftheunderground/pseuds/soundoftheunderground
Summary: “Awww, you’re too cute.” The redhead replies, her breath tickling Beca’s face. It’s at this point that Beca remembers that she is essentially being pinned against a rock by a redheaded stranger wielding a sword in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.A series of meetings between sole-survivor Beca Mitchell and wasteland crusader for peace (most of the time), Chloe Beale.





	1. Red Rocket, October 23 2287

**Author's Note:**

> I love Pitch Perfect. I love Fallout. This is me combining two of my favourite things in to a post-apocalyptic, lyrical adventure thing. Feel free to let me know what you think.

Beca has only been out of the vault for a few hours when she comes across a fiery redhead with a pretty face, and an even prettier weapon. She’s just making her way across the bridge between Sanctuary and Concord when she catches a glint of metal in the corner of her eye. Her limited experience in this new wasteland has her lunging to crouch behind the rocks between her and the truck stop in front of her. From her new hiding place she makes out three figures. A redhead is leaning casually against the rusted carcass of what was once a very, very nice car, whilst the other two are turned to each other, engaged in what seems to be a very heated discussion. Their voices aren’t loud enough for Beca to be able to make out exactly what they’re saying, but she guesses from their tones that all three are women. From her vantage point, she can see that the glint is actually what looks to be a very large, and very impressive weapon of the sword variety.

 

Curiosity piqued, Beca finds herself in a bit of a dilemma. On one hand, these are the first people she has experienced since leaving the vault, and it would be nice to find out what’s going on from something other than a two century year old robot. On the other hand though, these people seem to be well armed, and at least two of them appear to be angry, so it’s probably not in her best interests to just walk up to them and introduce herself.

 

“Fuck.” She mutters to herself, biting her lip in consideration. She silently goes over the pros and cons of how this situation could play out if she made herself known. So focused is she on arguing with herself internally, she doesn’t notice the redhead by the car glance in her direction. Nor does she notice her casually grip the sword in her hand and disappear around the back of the Red Rocket building.

 

In fact, by the time she turns her attention back to the people in front of her, it takes her a second to realise that they are now a pair rather than a trio. Mildly panicked, she scours the truck stop in the hopes of catching a flash of red, but to no avail.

 

“Shit.” She exclaims, panicked. “Where did she go?”

 

“I’m right here, babe.” Comes a response directly to Beca’s right.

 

“Thank God, I thought I’d lost you.” Beca breathes a sigh of relief, before her mind registers the situation.

 

And then she panics. And screams. Or she would be screaming if a warm hand wasn’t covering her mouth all of a sudden. Eyes widening, Beca tries to pull away. All she succeeds in doing is finding herself being pulled in to the body of the redhead as she struggles to stop Beca from making her escape. In the back of her mind, Beca registers that this is the first time in over two hundred years that she has had any physical contact with another person. It feels strange. The rest of her brain is too busy flailing as it fails to come up with a successful getaway plan.

 

“I need you to stop.” The redhead whispers, her breath hot and wet against Beca’s face. At this point, she has manoeuvred them so that Beca’s back is pressed against the rock she thought she was hiding behind, and her front is pressed against Beca’s own.

 

Beca just grunts and tries to bite at the hand covering her mouth, her body going in to full defensive mode. She pushes against the redhead, but it gets her nowhere. The other woman is too strong. After a few seconds, she stops fighting with a huff. Two hundred years of being frozen has had a serious impact on her stamina levels.

 

“Thanks.” The woman says gratefully, a small smile making its way on to her face. Beca refuses to acknowledge how pretty it is. “I need to know that you’re going to stay quiet before I take my hand away from your mouth, okay?”

 

Beca glares in to eyes that are too blue to even be describable for as long as she can before blinking and giving the woman a short, barely there nod. It seems to be enough, because in the next second the hand is gone and Beca can breathe through her mouth again.

 

“You’re really pretty.”

 

Beca blinks. They were not the words she was expecting. At all.

 

“Thanks.” She says uncertainly, “You too?”

 

“Awww, you’re too cute.” The redhead replies, her breath tickling Beca’s face. It’s at this point that Beca remembers that she is essentially being pinned against a rock by a redheaded stranger wielding a sword in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

 

“Um, would you mind taking a step back? Or, you know, three.” She asks.

 

“What?” The woman asks, confused. Then she glances down and seems to register how close the two of them still are. Beca expects her to take a step back and maybe apologise. She gets the unexpected. The woman slowly drags her eyes over the fitted vault suit that is currently rising with the rapid rise and fall of Beca’s chest, up the column of her neck, and then it seems to fix on Beca’s mouth for a couple of seconds before eventually meeting Beca’s gaze. And then, she winks. Honest to God winks.

 

“Do I have to?” She pouts.

 

“Well, yeah.” Beca says, pushing forward in an attempt to get herself a bit of space. The redhead just pushes back. Beca rolls her eyes, trying to figure out how she managed to find herself in this situation.

 

“Spoilsport.” The woman sings, taking a step back.

 

Beca’s newly re-established personal space allows her to fully take in the woman in front of her. She stands a few inches taller, but the combat boots she’s wearing over military style camos definitely give her a bit of a boost in height. Her whole body is lean and strong, her skin sun-kissed and lightly freckled. Gripped loosely in the woman’s right hand is the sword, which Beca can now identify as of the samurai variety. Hovering at the hip of her right is a holstered pistol, a menacing black mass.

 

“Like what you see?”

 

The question makes Beca sputter and blush as she struggles to meet the eyes of the other woman, a denial at the tip of her tongue. It quickly vanishes as she registers the smug grin on the woman’s face.

 

“Definitely not.” Is the argument she eventually comes up with, scoffing.

 

“That’s a shame.” The woman replies, and the pout is back.

 

“And why is that?” She can’t help but ask.

 

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to be fast friends.” The woman replies with what could almost pass as an innocent smile, if it wasn’t for another wink being sent in Beca’s direction.

 

Beca rolls her eyes, and is about to respond when a sharp whistle suddenly cuts through the air. The smile on the stranger’s face is replaced by an eye roll of her own. With one last smirk in Beca’s direction, she turns away and saunters back towards the truck stop, not once looking back.

 

Still not quite sure what just happened, Beca shuffles back to her original hiding spot and watches as her new redheaded acquaintance rejoins her companions. This time, she is just about able to make out the conversation between the three woman as they prepare to leave.

 

“I wish you’d stop wondering off, Chloe.” One of the other women, a blonde, complains.

 

“And I wish you’d stop treating me like a runaway dog.” _Chloe_ replies cheerily.

 

“What caught your attention this time?” The third woman asks.

 

“The cutest little pre-war relic you ever did see.” Chloe gushes happily, causing Beca to scoff in annoyance. (“ _I am not cute._ ”

 

“Oooooh, can I see it?” The third woman asks.

 

“Sorry, Stace.” She says with a shrug, “It wasn’t something I could just pick up and bring back with us.”

 

“Enough chit chat, ladies.” The blonde interrupts, “It’s time for us to move out. We have a mission we need to complete before nightfall.”

 

Beca watches as the three women pick up their various packs and weapons before heading towards Concord, her gaze catching on the retreating from of the redhead. Just before they pass out of her line of sight, she sees her turn and glance in Beca’s direction. She can almost swear she sees a smug little grin lift up the left side of her mouth, before turning and giving her attention to her companions once again.

 

For a while afterwards, Beca stays in place, watching the spot where she saw red disappear. When she realises what she’s doing, she shakes her head and continues on her way. Over the next few hours, as Beca travels through various abandoned neighbourhoods and settlements, she finds herself getting distracted with thoughts of red and blue. Her mind keeps getting caught on the same word that seems to be cycling through her mind on repeat.

 

“Chloe.” She says quietly, testing. The name rolls smoothly off of her tongue and in to the surrounding silence. It causes a warmth in Beca’s chest, but she blames it on the questionable meal she forced her way through not long before leaving a small house on the outskirts of Concord.

 

* * * * *

 

It’s only later on, as Beca is lying on an old moth-eaten couch in a deserted block of apartments, that Beca finds a red poker chip in her pocket.

 


	2. The Dugout Inn, November 6 2287

The first two weeks after Beca leaves the vault are spent adjusting to life in the Commonwealth. She manages to somehow take on groups of raiders, a deathclaw, a menacing group of hostile robots, and a glowing radioactive deer, which now go by the name of radstag. She befriends Preston Garvey, the leader of a militia group that call themselves the Minutemen, and has found herself joining his cause. Her days are spent roaming the area surrounding Sanctuary, helping local settlers and recruiting them in to the Minutemen. It’s a dramatic change from what she was doing before the bombs were dropped, but it keeps life interesting. 

Life is moving at a breakneck speed, and Beca finds herself slowing down only to eat and sleep. She rarely finds the time to ponder, but when she does her mind flits between two subjects – life before the war, and Chloe. Beca hasn’t come across the redhead since their encounter at the Red Rocket, though she catches herself searching for a flash of fiery red or the glint of metal when she wanders through the wasteland that Boston has become. Every time she catches herself doing it, Beca tries to force the other woman from her mind. She has almost convinced herself that the meeting was a self-induced hallucination, but the poker chip tucked cosily in to her breast pocket prevents her from deceiving herself.

Today is her third Saturday in the Commonwealth, and she’s celebrating it with her very first glass of moonshine, courtesy of the two Russian brothers that run the Dugout Inn. Beca has found herself here frequently since discovering the near miracle that is Diamond City, a micro-city built within the walls of Fenway Park. There’s something about the near-normalness that has captured her attention. The security offered by the green walls and extensive security detail make it easy to feel safe, and the thriving little settlement is as close to before that Beca has come.

So for the past two days, since Beca stumbled upon ‘The Great Green Jewel’, she has been paying 10 caps a day to rent a small room inside the Dugout Inn. She has spent her days wandering around the marketplace performing odd jobs for small amounts of money, and she’s spent her evenings drinking in the Dugout, listening to the stories told by those who pass through on their travels. She’s spent hours lying on her rented cot, silently listening to the radio on the dresser on the other side of the room, and just as long trying to forget everything, everyone, that she’s lost throughout the last two hundred years.

Right now though, Beca is doing none of those things. Instead, she is sat at the bar in the concrete hole that makes up Diamond City’s social hub, staring at the beverage that Vadim has just placed in front of her. 

“Is it safe to drink?” She asks sceptically, narrowing her eyes at Vadim. She’s pretty sure she already knows the answer.

“Of course.” Vadim practically shouts, his accent thick. “Me and my brother make the best moonshine in the Commonwealth. Had to start renting rooms out just so people had a place to safely pass out after drinking it.”

“That sounds promising.” Beca mutters, already regretting whatever is going to come next. Still, she obligingly raises her glass to clink against Vadim’s, before bringing it back to her lips and downing the liquid in one. She barely manages to drain the glass before she starts spluttering. Her eyes water and her throat burns, and dear lord she feels like her mouth has been violated.

“Oh my God.” She gasps, staring at the big man guffawing in front of her, “Did you just serve me rocket fuel?”

Vadim just laughs and laughs. He laughs for a good thirty seconds or so before slowly calming down. He reaches across and attempts to gently pat Beca’s shoulder in an act of friendliness, but it just makes Beca wince and feel as though she’s been punched.

“Welcome to the Commonwealth, my friend.” He booms, filling their glasses once more. “You are one of us now. Now, drink.”

Beca drinks. As the moonshine burns its way to her stomach, she already knows this is arguably the biggest mistake she’s ever made.

* * * * *

An undeterminable amount of time later, Beca is half sprawled across the bar as she listens to another tale of bravery and peril. This time the narrator is a young man wearing what Beca can only describe as a Top Gun flightsuit. His extravagant storytelling has drawn quite the crowd, and the bar is now full of people who have come to relax after their day’s work. Beca is struggling to keep her disbelief to herself as the man talks of defeating a mirelurk queen with nothing but a splintered pool cue and a half empty bottle of vodka. Her experience in the wasteland is pretty limited to be sure, but even to her inexperienced ears the story sounds ridiculous.

“What a tool.” She mutters to herself, turning her attention back to her now permanently empty glass of moonshine. Yefim had forced his brother to cut her off shortly after the second glass, for which Beca is immensely grateful. The world around her is blurt right now.

“You think so?” asks a voice to Beca’s right. 

“Definitely.” Beca nods, “Even I know that you need more than a shot and a giant tooth pick to kick the ass of a giant lobster-crab thing, Chloe. And I know practically nothing about the Commonwealth.”

“Giant lobster-crab thing, huh?” Chloe replies, seemingly confused. “What’s a lobster?”

Beca is pretty sure she’s drunk, because why else would the room be spinning? Still, she forces herself to focus on the redhead next to her as she gapes in amazement. In the back of her mind, Beca recognises that Chloe is once again a sight to behold with her pretty blue eyes and stupidly attractive confused expression.

“You don’t know what a lobster is?” She asks, dumbfounded. 

Chloe shakes her head in response.

“Dude, you’re from Boston. Lobster is what put you on the map.”

Chloe just looks confused. “I still don’t understand.”

“Oh man,” Beca is too drunk for this, but she tries to explain anyway. “You’ve seen a mirelurk queen, right?” At Chloe’s nod, she continues. “Okay, so imagine a mirelurk queen but on a much smaller scale. Kind of a similar size of a radroach. But red…or black. It’s basically that, but they crawl, and their pincers are bigger, and they don’t shoot poisonous gunk at you and spawn giant crabs of death and destruction. That’s a lobster.”

By the time Beca has finished her description, Chloe looks even more confused than before. Still, she looks at Beca with a twinkle in her eye and the hint of that smirk on her face. It makes Beca’s heart beat faster, but she blames that on the moonshine. And the heat. It’s getting warm in the bar.

“Did Vadim introduce you to his special brew?” Chloe asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“So what if he did?” Beca replies defensively, dragging herself so she’s sitting upright. It takes a lot more effort than it probably should.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Chloe says, ignoring Beca’s sudden shift in mood. She reaches over and taps her hand index finger on top of Beca’s hand a couple of hands in some weird gesture, smiling the whole time. “I guess that means congratulations are in order.”

Beca just blinks and stares at her hand, before returning her attention to Chloe’s face.

“For what?” She asks, her words slurring.

“You’re one of us now.” Chloe says, as if it’s obvious.

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“Vadim shared a bottle of moonshine with you, right?” Chloe asks, and Beca nods. Her head feels heavy.

“That’s his way of showing acceptance.” Chloe explains, “He only gives his special moonshine to people he thinks has earned it. Once everyone finds out you’ve had some, you’ll be welcome pretty much anywhere. Except the Combat Zone. And Trinity Plaza. And Feneuil Hall. And…”

“Alright, red, I get the point. I’m a member of the Commonwealth now, blah, blah, blah.”

“Exactly.” Chloe exclaims excitedly, clapping her hands together quietly. For some reason, Beca finds herself blushing. She doesn’t know why. She does know that the room is spinning faster, though.

“Chloe?

“Beca?”

“What’s a…hold on a second, how do you know my name?” 

Chloe’s answering chuckle is joined by a shake of the head and an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? You walked out of a vault after two hundred years underground, took on a group of raiders, killed a deathclaw, joined the Minutemen and then made your way to Diamond City still wearing your vault suit where you then proceeded to have an interview with the Commonwealth’s only journalist…Beca, everyone knows who you are.”

“Huh.” Beca says, “When you put it like that, it kinda makes sense.”

“I’m glad.” Chloe says, smiling wider. “Now, what were you going to ask me before?’

Beca opens her mouth to answer, and then closes it again. She furrows her brow as she tries to remember, but it doesn’t work. She’s forgotten. 

“Beca?” Chloe’s seems to be getting closer, Beca thinks. And then she stops thinking altogether as the world goes dark.

* * * * *

Beca temporarily escapes the clutches of her drunken stupor just long enough to realise that Chloe is tucking her in to her temporary bed. She swears she feels the ghost of the other woman’s lips brush across her forehead before she turns and walks away. Just as she reaches the door, she’s halted by Beca’s voice.

“I remember what I was going to ask you earlier.” Beca slurs. She manages to catch the blue of Chloe’s eyes and hold them as she continues, “Wanna hear?”

Chloe nods. “Of course.”

“Awesome.” Beca smiles, and then clears her throat, suddenly serious.

“What’s a place like you doing in a girl like this?”

She’s asleep before Chloe has the chance to respond.

* * * * *

When Beca is dragged in to consciousness the next day, she feels like she’s been hit by a truck. Her mouth feels like it’s full of cotton wool, her head is hurting like it’s never hurt before, and her stomach feels like it’s being squeezed to within an inch of its life. On top of that, there’s a niggling feeling at the back of her mind, like she’s forgetting something important. It’s not until she rolls over that she figures out what that something is. 

Sitting patiently on the bedstand next to her is another red poker chip, identical to the first.

“Shit.”


End file.
